


Telecommunications

by MirandaBeth



Category: Press Gang
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaBeth/pseuds/MirandaBeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dangers of change.  (A pre Season 3 ficlet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telecommunications

"Kenny, what is _this_?"

Kenny glanced up from his copy of the _Gazette_ – now that they were in the process of going commercial, it was more important than ever to keep a careful eye on what their parent paper was publishing – trying not to look too smug.

"It's called a telephone, Lynda. We use it to speak with people who are somewhere else. It's quite clever, really."

"I know it's a phone, Kenny," she snapped, brandishing it at him. "Why is it _here_? Why can I not leave you alone in the newsroom for five minutes without you _changing_ something?"

"Says the girl who tricked me into taking a week's vacation so she could redecorate," said Kenny.

"It was getting shabby! And you were being difficult about the budget."

"The new paint is very nice, Lynda, but did you have to _move_ everything? I'm still putting the filing system back together."

"I would have fixed it," she said sulkily. "I wasn't exactly planning to spend the rest of that week in hospital. Kenny, look at this phone, it's got all these extra buttons. What's the _point_ of it?"

Kenny sighed and folded his paper. "I thought it was about time we took a step into the modern age. We've got extra phone lines now. Here, let me-"

"So this isn't just a new phone?" she said, brandishing the thing at him. "This is an entire… _telecommunications_ system?"

"Well, yes. We're in the real world, now, Lynda. A lot more professional than a cable strung across a street. Exciting, isn't it?"

Her face darkened further. Kenny amused himself by picturing little stormclouds gathering above her head, complete with the occasional flash of lightning. " _Where_ is my phone?"

"Your phone, now, is it?" he couldn't help saying. "You mean the phone you nearly killed Colin for secretly installing?"

"I knew what to expect of that phone! I might not have liked it at first, I might _still_ not like it very much, but we got used to each other. We worked well together. We were a good team. _What?_ "

He realised he was smirking, and carefully straightened his face.

"Oh, shut up, Kenny," she said, and hiccupped.

"Didn't say a word," Kenny said cheerfully. "Now, shall I show you how it works?"

***

Lynda's mood was still foul when she arrived at work the next morning. Well, if you could call it morning. You might not, since the streets outside were still empty, save for the occasional group of people making their way home after a night out, their laughter and drunken shouts the music Lynda had begun to associate with the start of the workday.

It really would make more sense to just sleep here.

She flipped the lights on and strode to her desk, throwing her bag onto her chair with a little more force than was strictly required and taking off the hat she'd worn as protection against the cool night air. She went to toss the hat on top of the bag, but stopped mid-throw, as her brain suddenly caught up with something her eyes had seen.

She looked around.

On the wall behind the desk, someone – and _only one guess_ as to who that someone might be – had mounted the old phone in a frame. There was a sticky note attached to the handset, and she moved closer to read the message in Kenny's handwriting:

_Now it can never leave._

_(Really. I used a lot of glue.)_

Lynda balled up the note and threw it at Kenny's vacant chair. She shifted her things from her chair and sat down, twisting in her chair to look at the phone again.

It was actually quite comforting.

Lynda tightened her mouth and set about increasing Kenny's workload for the day.

He obviously had _far_ too much spare time on his hands.


End file.
